The Trouble With Templars
by wintryone
Summary: Carver Hawke is left behind when his mage sister heads off to the Deep Roads. He joins the Templar Order - perhaps to spite her, perhaps to prove himself to the world. Everything goes quite well until he meets a certain Templar Lieutenant. The fiery redhead upsets his new life beyond repair. Carver falls in love and this is his story. Carver/OC. Set early in Act 3.


_A/N This one is for Fenzev._

* * *

"Sister."

"Carver."

An awkward silence stretched between them. There stood his sister, proudly in the Gallows, her staff at her back and her fancy new mages robes blew around her ankles in the stiff breeze. She was an apostate, he a Templar. By all rights, he should have arrested her by now, but since her rise to Champion of Kirkwall, no Templar could touch her – not even Knight Commander Meredith.

For three years he'd been in training. Three years of sparring and skirmishes with his fellows. Three years of learning to smite, to cleanse and to silence mages. Mages like his sister.

For three years he'd taken his daily dose of lyrium. A thing unheard of in the past for mere recruits, but Meredith had changed the rules to suit herself. No surprise there.

Now, just weeks before he was due to take his oath, his heart was filled with doubts. Was this what he truly wanted? Was this his righteous path? The rumors flying around the Gallows about Meredith's madness were disturbing, to say the least. The number of "blood mages" being made tranquil was especially disquieting, because he'd met some of them before the horrific ritual was enacted that stole their hearts and their dreams. Could that frail elf-girl really have been a blood mage? She had been little more than a child. The fear in her eyes as she'd been tried and found guilty by Meredith's so-called court had chilled his blood. Carver shuddered. Worse was her now empty eyes.

"Something wrong, Brother?" Hawke asked. "Or did you just call me here to stare at me in that irksome manner?"

Something was wrong, but in truth it was none of the things that had sifted through his mind just moments ago. There was something else.

Carver cleared his throat. "I thought," he began, but then cleared his throat again to hide the stutter that had nearly passed his lips, "I thought we might talk."

Hawke eyebrows flew up beneath her wispy, blond bangs. "Talk? To me?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why now Carver? We've barely spoken in more than three years."

Carver frowned at her. There was no way she was going to make this easy for him, so he might as well get it over with. "Entirely my fault," he said and gave her a swift bow. "I apologize for my… past behavior."

Hawke actually laughed. "Are you serious?" she asked. "You can't possibly be. What's up your sleeve?"

"Sister," he said, and was not entirely happy with the note of pleading in his voice, "I am serious. He lowered his voice and added, "There is no one else I can trust."

That got her attention. She narrowed her eyes and took a step toward him. "I need to be clear, here," she said. "All I've ever heard since you were thirteen was how much you resented being in my shadow. All you've ever given me was grief at every turn. You questioned every decision I made and blamed me for everything that went wrong."

Carver swallowed. He really had been ungrateful prig. He swallowed again, and this time he was pretty sure it was his pride that went down his throat. "Yes, that's true."

"But you trust me," said Hawke, and now her expression was carefully neutral.

"Yes," he said.

"What kind of trouble are you in?" she asked.

"The worst kind," he replied. "I'm in love.

* * *

**Six Months Earlier…**

"Attention, recruit!"

Carver turned, threw back his shoulders and put a fist to his chest. He'd been lounging with his fellow trainees, taking a break from the insane schedule they were forced to keep, when he'd heard the command come from behind him. The real problem was the voice issuing the command was low and sultry, in direct opposition to the tone of authority it carried. It sent a shiver down his spine.

The whole situation was made even worse when he saw her. The Templar Lieutenant barking at him with her sexy voice was gorgeous. Her hair was the deep, rich russet of autumn chrysanthemums, her eyes the soft blue of forget-me-nots, and her pale, flawless skin that looked softer than any rose he'd ever seen, _Maker_ -She was like a bouquet of flowers drenched in a honeyed voice.

"Templar recruit," she said and looked directly at him through narrowed eyes. "Do you have a problem?"

_Maker_, he had to get himself under control. "No, Lieutenant… Ser," he said, and Andraste's ass, if his voice didn't crack.

Just the barest hint of humor shone in her eyes and was gone. "Report to the armory," she told him. "The Knight Captain is dispensing new weapons to the recruits." With that she turned and marched back toward the barracks. Carver watched her hips swing as she walked away. Even the Templar skirts she wore couldn't hide her obvious female stride.

That was the first time Carver met Templar Lieutenant Andrea Elgar, and from that point forward, he could not shake her loose from his thoughts.

Rumors flew through the Gallows. She was from Antiva. She was from Ferelden. The Divine herself had sent Lt. Elgar from Orlais to spy on Meredith. She was an orphan, adopted by the Chantry when just a babe. She'd been in the Gallows for ten years. She'd just arrived last week. Carver didn't believe any of the rumors, but he also couldn't keep his eyes or his mind off of her. It seemed he spent every spare moment doing his best to catch a glimpse of this mysterious woman, and he'd been taken to task for his obvious distraction several times.

Maybe that's all it would have been – a distraction - a beautiful woman to daydream about as he endured the harsh reality of Templar training. Did he imagine the lingering looks she gave him in turn? Was it merely wishful thinking that she smiled at him alone, and kept her face a neutral mask for the others? In truth, that benign situation may have been preferable to how things turned out.

* * *

As luck would have it, Lieutenant Elgar was the ranking officer on his very first assignment. Hugh, Ruvena and Paxley were also part of the group that was delegated to hunt down a nest of blood mages, purported to be hiding out in a cave on the Wounded Coast. His first thought was that he was surprised his sister hadn't already rooted them out. Hawke's hatred of blood mages was well known, even among the Templars. Why she continued to keep that little elf mage tagging along with her, Carver couldn't understand. Yet, those wayward thoughts did not overcome his excitement at finally being able to put his training to the test.

The power surging through his veins! It was a completely new experience. His training had given him no hint that taking up the true fight against these maleficarum would set his body and his heart on fire with a righteous passion unlike anything he had ever known. His doubts were eradicated as he gave his will over to the Maker. He would erase this plague of magic from the face of Thedas.

Another surge of power shot through him, and he swung his great sword in an arc that toppled three blood mages in one fell stroke. He roared with satisfaction and turned to take down the next group, when the bedrock surrounding him began to violently shake. A rain of loose dirt and pebbles filled the air, choking him. Wild laughter echoed off the cavern walls.

"To the void with us all!" Carver heard the shout over the increased rumbling of the rocks. He turned in time to see Lt. Elgar had rushed the mage who'd pulled a knife to slit his wrist and unleash the power of his blood upon them.

"No!" Carver shouted and quickly moved to aid her. He'd barely reached her when a loud explosion tossed them both into the air, and the cavern began to collapse around them. For a time, Carver knew no more.

"Carver," a smooth, sultry voice whispered his name. "Carver, wake up."

At first he thought it was just another dream of his sexy lieutenant, but the throbbing in his head and the sharp pain shooting down his leg told him otherwise. That blood mage, the cave-in… it all came back to him in a rush and his eyes flew open. Lieutenant Elgar was leaning over him, her face a sickly green in the phosphorous light of the cave.

"There you are," she said, and the way she smiled at him made him forget his pain for a brief moment.

He tried to sit up, but she pressed a hand to his chest. "Not yet," she said. "I need to have a look at your leg."

Her beautiful face was covered in grime, and a line of blood ran down her left cheek from a deep gash under her eye. "You're hurt," he said and tried to lift his hand. He cursed inwardly when he realized he'd used the last of his healing potions not long before the blast.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Lie still while I see to you."

"The others?" Carver choked out.

Her lips pressed in a grim line. "I don't know," she said. "We've been cut off." She sighed and continued, "We're out of potions, so I need to have a look at your leg." Her hands reached to the belt at his waist and Carver felt a thrill of panic.

"L-Lieutenant?" Damn his stuttering. He'd thought he'd finally got past that.

"It's alright Carver," she said, "I need to get this skirt off of you. There's… some blood."

Maker, she was undressing him! "Lieutenant, I…" He couldn't tell her that her hands on him were causing inappropriate reactions in his body, despite the pain in his head and leg. Yet, if she continued on as she was, she might just find out how she affected him.

"Shush," she said with a slight curve of her lips. "And call me Andrea. People who are in life or death situations should have the privilege of using first names."

Carver gritted his teeth and tried to focus his mind on anything but her hands removing his armor. He wasn't having much luck. A white-hot pain shot down his leg when she finally removed the weight of his greaves. Thankfully that calmed his ardor somewhat, because now there were only his smalls between her hands and his skin.

"I'm going to have to cut these away from the wound," she said, and even in the dim light Carver thought he saw color rise to her cheeks. She procured a small knife from her belt and set to work. After a few moments she grunted softly.

"Is it bad?" he asked her. His whole leg was throbbing now, though the cooler air did feel good on his heated skin.

"It's not good," she said. She stood up and began to unbuckle her own belt.

"Lieu… Andrea?" This was all just a bit much for him, and he suddenly wished it were Paxley or Hugh trapped here with him.

When Andrea smiled at him this time, he almost thought there was a hint of playful teasing in it. "You need a tourniquet," she said. "Your skirt is blood-drenched and I don't have anything else handy." She took the knife and began to cut up her skirt.

* * *

Carver thought he must have passed out again, because when he opened his eyes he seemed to be alone. He struggled to sit up and croaked, "Andrea?"

"It's all right," she said and her figure moved from the shadows. "I'm here."

_Maker,_ that voice.

She came over and knelt down next to him. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"I… thank you," he said and weakly gestured to his leg. "You know… for…" That he couldn't speak a complete sentence around her was really starting to vex him.

Andrea lifted one eyebrow and peer down at him with a puzzled frown. "What is it with you, recruit?" she asked. "I've seen you around your mates and now in battle. You're usually as aggressive as a bronto."

Carver was glad for the muted green light of the cave, because there was some hope she couldn't see the heat rise to his cheeks. "My apologies if I've offended you, Lieutenant," he said in the most manly voice he could muster.

She surprised him with her low, throaty laugh. "Offended me?" she asked. "Now why would you think that?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his rapidly beating heart under control. She was sitting too near to him, and that sexy voice of hers kept traveling down his spine and stirring up things best left alone. "You…" he began and opened his eyes, only to find she'd leaned toward him and her face was much too close to his. With very little effort he could reach up and taste that succulent mouth.

"I what?" she asked, and Carver could have sworn that teasing glint was back in her eyes. There was no way she was flirting with him. Was there?

He looked away. "You're my superior officer," he said. "I have a duty…"

"Carver," she said. "We're trapped in a cave-in. We may die." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm more interested in honesty than duty."

He sincerely hoped she wasn't playing some game with him, because her words had cut through his reserve like a hot knife through butter. He struggled to brace himself on his elbows, which brought his face within inches of hers. Andrea did not move away, but that glint in her eyes started to sparkle.

"Honesty?" he breathed, and with another great effort he lifted a hand to the back of her neck. "I have some of that," he said and pulled her mouth down to his.

Maker, the taste of her – it was the taste of everything he'd ever wanted. Her lips parted for him and he swallowed the soft moan that escaped her throat. She pushed him back to the cold stone floor and took control of the kiss. Her hands cupped his jaw just as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Carver stiffened as her thrusting tongue send slivers of heat low into his belly. He cursed the injured leg that kept him from lifting her into his arms – more than anything; he wanted their bodies pressed together with no barriers between them. It was only a first kiss and already he wanted inside her as if his life depended on in.

Andrea pulled away slightly and the look in her eyes was no longer teasing. A flame seemed to have lit within them, and now they were burning. "How discreet can you be, recruit?" she asked him in that hot, honeyed voice.

Did she mean? Oh sweet Andraste, he'd stitch his own lips shut like a Qunari Saarebas if it meant he could have her. There was only one answer to give. "Very discreet, Lieutenant," he said.

"Good," she replied with a sultry smile and in the next breath she was removing her armor.

* * *

They were eventually rescued from the cave-in. Hugh, Paxley, and Ruvena had all survived and gone for help. The night they spent trapped together, however, turned out to be the best night of Carver's life. Over and over they'd taken each other in almost every way his imagination had ever dreamed of. They'd both been insatiable, their passion for each other bottomless. He'd wanted to curse his Templar rescuers when they'd shouted from the other side of the rocky enclosure. Andrea had only winked at him and started to pull on her armor.

That had been weeks ago, and since then she'd been driving him crazy with her indifference. Once they'd left the cave and returned to the Gallows, it had been business as usual. There were no more teasing glances. She paid no more attention to him than to any other recruit. The thing that surprised him most was not that she'd used obviously used him as a plaything to pass the time while they'd been trapped. What surprised him was how much it hurt.

Yet the knot of hurt coiled in his chest did not stop him from wanting her. If anything, he wanted her more than ever. That had never happened to him before. The few experiences he'd had with women had been a simple matter of sating himself and moving on. Why couldn't he get Andrea out of his head now that he'd gotten what he wanted?

These were his thoughts as he trudged along to the barracks after a long, hard day of sparring with his fellow recruits.

"Templar Recruit Carver," the monotone voice called from behind him. Carver turned and saw a tranquil mage approaching him, a sealed missive clutched in one hand.

"That's me," said Carver, flippantly, to cover his discomfort. His close proximity to these soulless mages was the worst part of living in the Gallows.

The mage handed him the parchment and left without another word.

Carver broke the seal and unrolled the small parchment.

_Report to the chapel._

_A.E._

He stuffed the note up his gauntlet and changed direction. It wasn't long before he pushed open the door to the Gallows Chapel. It seemed deserted.

"Hello?" he called, and listened as his voice echoed through the high-ceilinged room.

"Here." It was Andrea's voice coming from behind the altar, and it sounded like sex itself.

He hurried through the pews and up onto the dais. "Andrea?" he called.

"Back here," she said, her voice drifting to him from behind the thick velvet curtains behind the pulpit.

Carver pulled opened the curtain and nearly dropped to his knees. There lay Lieutenant Andre Elgar, naked as the day she was born, laying on a thick pile of blankets.

"I want you, big boy," was all she said.

Carver didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

It went on that way for months. Secret rendezvous with his sexy superior happened several times a week after that. She was all he could think about – all that he wanted, and he knew he was in way over his head.

Andrea never talked about what they were doing. Never mentioned anything personal about herself. It confused him because she was so open, so giving, so passionate when they came together. She joined with him as if they were making love, not like they were two rutting teenagers sneaking behind the barn.

The few times he'd tried to talk to her, she'd distracted him by putting his mouth, or hers, to better uses. After these many months, there wasn't an inch of her body that he was not intimately familiar with. He felt he knew it better than his own.

Now his vows were looming before him and he did not know what to do. In his desperation, he'd sent for his sister, who sat before him now, her expression troubled.

"I'm not sure I'm the best one to give you advice on your love life," Hawke said sadly.

"What about that elf?" Carver asked. "I thought…"

"I didn't work out," she said harshly," and sudden pain flashed in her hazel eyes. "And neither did Anders."

"Anders? You mean…"

"Yes, I rebounded right into the arms of the fanatical, possessed mage," she admitted with a humorless laugh.

"What happened?" asked Carver.

"He's a fanatical, possessed mage," she replied, and a hint of a smile curved her lips.

"So you suck at this stuff, is what you're saying," Carver said.

Hawke was silent for so long, Carver was about to make his excuses and take his leave. Coming to Hawke had been a mistake, it seemed.

When she finally spoke, her voice was thick, and tears shimmered in her eyes. "If you have a chance at the real thing, Carver," she said, "take it. Risk everything if you must – but if you've found love…"

Suddenly Carver understood. "You still care about him, that crazy ex-slave." It was not a question.

Hawke nodded. "Fenris," she said, and his name spilled from her lips with such longing that Carver reached out and took her hand.

"He only cares about killing Danarius," she said. "But even if the Magister were dead, I'm still a mage. He'll never get past that."

"I'm so sorry, sister," he told her. He truly felt bad for her. After so many years of resenting his big sister, it was strange to finally understand that she wasn't only some larger-than-life hero, but also a woman with a broken heart.

"I don't want your pity," she told him, and the steely resolve had returned to her voice. "Forget about me. Just do whatever it takes to be with her, Carver, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"It may be love on my part," Carver said bitterly. "But she won't talk me at all, she only wants to shag me."

"You need a plan, little brother," Hawke said with a mischievous smile on her lips.

"And you've got one?" he asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Oh yes," replied Hawke. "Plans are my thing."

* * *

Two thoughts were warring in Carver's mind with equal ferocity. The first was that after tonight, he might finally and truly be united with his love. The second, that come tomorrow, he could be swinging from a rope in the Gallows courtyard.

He still wasn't sure why he'd agreed to Hawke's plan. He still wasn't sure why he continued to think of his sister as _Hawke _instead of as _Marian_. Blast it, he wasn't thinking properly at all.

If he knew his sister at all, however, there was a certain Templar Lieutenant safely secured and waiting for him right at this very moment.

Carver quickened his steps.

It had been a long time since he'd been to Darktown. It was not somewhere Templars tended to frequent, which is why it was also where most of Kirkwall's apostates spent their time. It was also why he was not wearing his Templar regalia. He made his way to the lowest level and searched for the pink scarf Hawke was supposed to leave for him. There. There it was, tied to an old piece of rotting wood propped up against the wall. He moved the board away and saw the gaping mouth of a dark tunnel behind it.

_Last chance_, he thought, but really, he knew his decision was already made. He lit his torch and moved into the underground of the city.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Carver saw a shock of white hair in the not-so far in the distance. The elf? What was he doing here? Well, other than leaning against the wall with a scowl on his face.

"Fenris," he said, in his most unfriendly Templar voice. This was the bastard who'd put that haunted look in his sister's eyes, and right now he was in no mood to forget that important little fact.

Fenris pushed away from the wall and gestured to a door behind him. "They await you, within."

Carver hesitated. As much as he longed to see Andrea, this might be the only chance he had to speak a few choice words to this… elf. "In a minute," Carver said.

Fenris only nodded and resumed his casual stance again the wall.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Carver asked.

Fenris shrugged. "Hawke asked me to help her, so I did."

His nonchalant manner really piqued Carver's ire. "I want you to stay away from her," he said between his teeth. "You understand? After tonight, you leave her alone?"

Fenris' eyes shot up under the heavy fringe of his hair. "I do not understand you," he said with a bit of a growl to his voice.

"You break her heart and then you stick around and torment her with your presence? How can you not understand that?" Carver said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't be overheard.

"Broke her… What are you talking about?" Fenris asked. He pushed away from the wall again and stood directly in front of Carver.

"Don't play dumb, you bastard," Carver hissed.

"You think Hawke has feelings for me?" Fenris said, and amazingly, he laughed. "You'd never know it, the way she sleeps with…"

Rage boiled in Carver's chest, and he slammed Fenris back against the wall. "She told me herself," Carver said only inches from his face. "You make it right or you leave." He held Fenris' gaze for several seconds before he added, "Or I'll kill you. You understand? I will kill you."

Fenris' eyes narrowed, but he didn't flinch. In the end, he simply gave Carver one slight nod. It would have to be enough, because suddenly there was scuffling and the door swung open to reveal Hawke.

"What's going on?" she asked looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," said Carver and pushed passed her into the room.

There, bound to a chair with a hood over her head was Andrea. She was sitting very still and showed no signs of a fight or a struggle. He glanced back as Hawke slipped through the door and shut it behind her. This was it. Now he would lose everything, or have everything he'd ever wanted.

Carver lifted the hood from Andrea's head.

"Carver?" she asked. "What are you doing here? And why are you out of uniform?"

He knelt beside her and began to untie her hands and feet. "I've come to set you free," he said simply.

"You're rescuing me?" she said, and her eyes sparkled. His Andrea, he thought. Nothing could daunt her.

"Sort of," he replied. Once she was untied, he held out a hand to her, and she immediately grasped it. "I'm also the one who had you captured."

Her expression widened in incredulity. "What?" she asked, and even in her shocked confusion, her voice slid over him like warm honey.

"You have to listen to me," he said. "I've tried so many times before…" He shook his head. "I love you, Andrea. I love you so much it hurts."

"Carver…" she began, and he did not like the sudden wariness in her eyes.

"Come away with me," he practically begged. "Anywhere you want, I just… I need to be with you."

Andrea considered him for long moments. "You realize what you are asking?" she queried. "You may not have taken your vows, but I have."

"None of that matters if… if you think you could come to care for me," he said. He wanted so much to take her in his arms, to kiss that perfect mouth, but he waited, and held his breath for what she would say next.

"Oh Carver," she said and lifted a hand to his cheek. "Of course I care for you. I care for you very much."

"But… what? I hear a _but_ in there," he said. For the moment he was just glad she wasn't screaming or attacking him.

"But I'm already married," she said, and there was a deep sadness in her eyes.

"Married? How can you be married?" he nearly shouted. "Why would you… you know… with _me_ if you're…"

"Hush, Carver," she soothed. "I was given in marriage when I was still a girl. I haven't… been with him in a very long time. He doesn't want me anymore but he won't let me go."

"Who?" Carver asked. "Who is this bastard, I'll…"

She interrupted him, "It's Orsino."

"What?" Carver nearly bellowed. "The First Enchanter? I don't understand, mages in the circle aren't permitted to…"

"It's a long story," she said with a sigh. "But the crux of it is, Orsino is a very powerful mage, and many years ago he nearly destroyed the Circle in Kirkwall. To appease him, the previous Knight Commander gave him several… brides, of which I was one. He was also given carte blanche to do with as he wished with the Circle here."

"Several? That can't be legal in the eyes of the Chantry!" Carver shouted. "And if he's so powerful, why is he always fighting with Meredith?"

"Don't be naïve, Carver," she said. "The Chantry makes its own rules to suit itself. Once Meredith was appointed Knight Commander, she didn't like the deal made with Orsino, and she fights him at every turn."

His heart and his head were both in turmoil. How could this be? It went contrary to everything he thought he believed in. He gripped Andrea by her arms. "All the more reason for us to leave. You must come with me – you can't stay here and…"

Andrea closed her eyes and said, "If we leave it will be a death sentence for us both." She opened her eyes, and for the first time he saw the love and concern he'd been searching for these many months. "Come back with me to the Gallows. It can be like it was."

"No," he said vehemently. "We must leave. I couldn't stand that he could take you from me. I can't stand the thought of him touching you."

"It's been years," she said.

"Come with me," he insisted. "We'll leave tonight, anywhere you want to go."

"Where would we go that the Chantry could not find us? There is nowhere in all of Thedas…"

Carver stopped her words with a finger pressed to her lips. "I know a place. Trust me, Andrea. Please. Come with me."

She was silent for so long that Carver began to lose hope. What would he do if she refused? Go back to the Gallows and live a lie? No, he could not. Everything he was, his whole future depended on what she said next.

In the end, Andrea didn't say anything, she simply nodded.

As they slipped out the door to begin their new lives as fugitives, Carver only wanted a chance to say goodbye to his sister. He searched the corridors before he finally saw her. There she was, deep in the shadows, pressed up against the elf, their hands groping, and their mouths locked together. Carver watched them for a minute then shook his head, torn between anger and relief.

He'd send his sister a letter.

**The End**

* * *

_Liso66 - you are a beta divine! Thank you!_


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